


everything is different the second time around

by BelovedCreation



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 19:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4150311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelovedCreation/pseuds/BelovedCreation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon divergence in which Pan never casts his curse on Storybrooke and Emma and Neal attempt to co-parent, with Hook attempting to stay away and give the family a chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everything is different the second time around

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a friend's frustration that we never got to see Emma *choose* Killian over Neal. Her thoughts included: "How would the CS story be different if Neal was a factor? Would Hook have continued to back off and let them try to be a family? What would Emma have done with the chance to give Henry a “real home”? How long before Snow and Charming stopped pushing Neal? What would their relationship look like? As a couple Neal and Emma wouldn’t have worked out but I would have liked to see that on screen."

Neal moves to Storybrooke on a Tuesday.

It should have taken longer, he explains at Granny’s the Friday before, as he and Henry demolish a plate of fries right before the dinner rush hits. But with his father owning most of the town and eager to have his only son close to him again, a suitable home has been secured - one a little too nice for Neal’s taste and not nearly as opulent as Gold would prefer. Henry wiggles excitedly in the booth next to Emma and asks if he can help move boxes and hang pictures and, with a quick glance at his biological mother, if there will be a place for him in his dad’s new home.

Neal nods and reaches across the table to ruffle Henry’s hair, making the mop of brown even messier than usual. “Of course there is, buddy. We’ll set up a room just for you.”

Emma bites the inside of her cheek and waits until Henry skips off to the bathroom until she leans back and crosses her arms. “What do you think you’re doing, Neal?”

His face does that thing it used to do when he knew he fucked up but wasn’t sure what he had done. “Eating?” He dips a french fry into the puddle of ketchup and inserts it into his mouth.

“You can’t just promise Henry a room of his own without talking to me first.”

“What’s the big deal?” His words are muttered around the greasy potato chunk and he swallows with a shrug. “I’m his dad; he should be able to stay with me.”

“You’re not the only one in this, Neal,” Emma continues. “You have to talk to me first. And there’s Regina -- she’s his mom too and she practically has a whole wing of her mansion for him to live in. Maybe we should all three get together and talk about how to work this all out.”

Neal wipes his fingers off on a crumpled-up napkin and rests his hand on her crossed arm. “If you moved in with me, Ems, then this wouldn’t be an issue.”

Her mouth drops open in surprise -- that he would think she’d be so ready, after a decade of feeling betrayed, to move in with him as though nothing has changed.

“Neal,” she speaks quietly and quickly, spotting Henry making his way back, “I’m not moving in with you.”

“Then how about Friday nights are family nights? You and me and Henry, just the three of us.” Henry returns to the table just in time to hear his father’s words and he grins at the suggestion, eyes looking significantly between her and Neal, and all she can do is agree and try to hide her lack of enthusiasm.

* * *

So the next Friday, she and Henry arrive at Neal’s new house with a meatloaf lovingly prepared by an overly-excited Mary Margaret and Emma’s grim determination to make the most of every quiet moment she gets.

There is a tiny, resentful place inside of Emma where she wishes that Henry didn’t love Neal as much as he does. She’s just gotten her son back, after years of trying to forget him, months of pushing him away, weeks of being trapped in the Enchanted Forest, and days that felt like months in Neverland. She wants peace and quiet and the opportunity to spend quality time with her son. But at every story of petty crime and running from Pan, Henry’s eyes go wider and he falls even more in love with his father.

It takes three weeks of that for Emma to begin seeing Neal through her son’s eyes, to begin to remember all the reasons she fell in love with him. That night, Neal sends Henry out to the car and asks to speak with Emma in private.

He asks her to have dinner with him the next night.

She says yes.

* * *

Neal picks her up at the loft and Mary Margaret makes Emma’s face turn bright red when she gets out an oversized (and outdated) Polaroid camera and snaps at least a dozen pictures, grin stretched wide across her face. Emma shoves her hands deep into the pockets of her dark blue jersey dress and follows Neal out the door muttering vague threats over her shoulders.

“So where are we going?” she asks, her shoulders hitting her ears and her heels lifting off the floor in the most awkward movement she’s ever made in her life.

“I was, uh, thinking Granny’s? I don’t really know the town very well so I figured  _stick with what you know_ , right?”

Emma nods and forces a smile, pushing down the feeling that dinner at Granny’s on a Saturday night isn’t special, its normal. “Yeah,” she replies, taking the arm he offers and walking down the stairs. “Stick with what you know.”

She orders the chicken-fried steak, one of the few items she hasn’t tried yet.

He orders a cheeseburger.

(He always orders a cheeseburger.)

They talk about Henry. They talk about the town. They talk about her parents and about his dad and even about Belle and how surprised he is to get along with her. They avoid any discussion of Tamara or about their days running scams up and down the Eastern Seaboard. He kisses her at her doorstep, his hand on her waist and lips soft against her own, making her feel seventeen again, as though she’s special for someone like him wanting her. He gives her a smile and promises to see her and Henry next Friday.

“So, how’d it go?” Mary Margaret is on the couch, grinning and wiggling like her grandson, David looking slightly dubious but still curious. “Was it like it used to be?”

Emma pulls the bobby pins out of her hair, releasing it from the braid and running her fingers through the curled locks. “Yeah, sorta,” she says. “In some ways.” Her mother’s wide eyes are begging for more information, but her head is swimming. “Listen- I’m going to go to bed.”

Mary Margaret’s brows furrow and she opens her mouth before David cuts her off with a hand on her thigh. “Sleep tight, honey,” he says with an understanding smile. And as she climbs under the covers in her underwear and an oversized t-shirt, she hears her father whispering something to her mother.

“Don’t push her, Snow. Maybe she shouldn’t jump into anything too fast.”

“I’m not  _pushing_. I just want to see her happy.”

“I do too. That’s why we shouldn’t push - at least not on this.”

* * *

On Friday, when Neal asks her out, she tells him she has other plans.

* * *

The shot of rum feels warm and soothing as it hits the back of her throat, but for some reason it tastes weak and watery and Emma’s already itching for a second, even as Ruby slams her own shot glass down on the bar at the Rabbit Hole and grins at her. “Another?” the waitress asks.

“Another,” Emma agrees, and the bartender refills their glasses and they slam those back with laughs and each order a beer to nurse at the booth.

“So what’s going on?” Ruby’s eyes are a little too serious for the question to be nonchalant and Emma takes a gulp of her alcohol to delay any sort of answer. Ruby sighs and continues. “You call me at midnight last night and beg me for a girl’s night. We’re friends, Emma, but we’ve never been  _that_ close before. So if I’m missing out on Saturday night tips at Granny’s, I want to know why you needed to make other plans.”

“Neal wanted to go out again.”

Ruby’s trademark red lips twist and her eyes glint in a knowing way. “And you didn’t want to.”

“No.”

“Because you don’t want your heart broken again?”

Emma shakes her head and sighs, pausing for a quick gulp of beer and plowing through, glad to have a neutral party to hear her out. “Because I’m not seventeen anymore. I’m not the same person as I used to be and, frankly, that’s a good thing. I’ve got roots, responsibilities. I’m a mother now, for Christ’s sake!”

“And he’s a father.” Ruby smirks and Emma frowns.

“Sort of.”

“I thought Henry was his-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma cuts her off with a wave of her hand. “Henry is his kid, but he doesn’t know how to raise him. He thinks he can just do whatever he wants without talking to me or Regina. And if he won’t communicate with me about stuff like that-”

“than how will he communicate with you about other stuff,” Ruby finishes with an understanding nod. “I get it. But he is still Henry’s dad. He’s gonna be in your life.”

“He is.” Emma begins to tug the label off of the bottle. “But that doesn’t mean we have to get married.”

Ruby shifts back in the booth and when Emma looks up from her task its to a grinning brunette. “I don’t blame you for not picking Neal, not when you’ve got a serious piece of manmeat waiting in the wings.”

“Serious piece of- Ruby, what are you talking about?” She is looking at something over Emma’s shoulder and Emma follows her gaze to a figure in a long black leather coat sitting at the bar, shoulders slumped and a bottle of rum next to him.

“Hook?”

“C’mon Emma, something happened while you guys were gone, I know it.” Ruby sits up straight and clutches her beer with both hands. “Otherwise he wouldn’t turn around and run out the door every time he comes in and sees you sitting down.”

“He what-?”

“And every time I come in here he’s sitting at the bar looking like a kid who had his puppy stolen from him. Its getting really pathetic. Hotness like that wasn’t made to sulk.”

“Ruby, he can’t be-”

“Emma Swan, are you aware of how many tips I usually make at this time on a Saturday night? And of how boring the gossip is in this town now that everyone’s found their true loves again?” Ruby’s long look finally breaks Emma and she grunts, finishes her beer, and leans forward to tell Ruby everything.

The whole story comes spilling out of her, from getting Neal’s cutlass from Hook to kissing Hook after he saved her father to telling Neal her secret to the strange feeling she’s been having since making it back to Storybrooke. Ruby is a perfect audience, eyes growing alternatively wide and narrow, gasping and squealing in turn. When Emma has finished, Ruby stands and pulls Emma to her feet.

“Go over there and talk to him. Tell him that you miss him and want to go have hot makeup sex with him.”

“ _Ruby_!”

“Go!”

With Ruby’s nails digging into the soft flesh of her upper arms, Emma steps forward and crosses the noisy bar to reach the pirate. She places her palm on his shoulder, the familiar feeling of soft leather comforting against her skin, and he starts before turning.

“Swan!” He blinks a few times, rapidly, at the sight of her, and she does the same now that she is face-to-face with his beautiful blue eyes and roguish scruff for the first time in almost a month. “What are you doing here?”

“Having a drink.” She points to Ruby, who wriggles her fingers and grins when Hook spots her. “Girls night.”

“Ah, girls night.”

There is something lacking in his flat tone and Emma frowns, wondering how to bring back the carefree pirate who had kept her spirits up in Neverland.

“Can I join you?” she asks, settling on the stool next to him before he can reply. “Buy you a drink?”

“Gods, no,” he replies, looking faintly horrified. “I would never let a lady buy my rum -- it would be poor form.”

“Then I guess I’d better let you buy me a drink so you can keep that promise you made.”

“Promise? What promise was that?” He quirks an eyebrow in confusion and Emma is suddenly seized with the desire to smooth over it with her thumb.

“You said that when we rescued Henry the fun would begin.” She leans across him to pick up the rum bottle and pours herself a shot, knocking it back and licking her lips slowly to gather all of the liquor from the corner of her mouth. “I took that as a promise that you’d show me a good time when we got back here.”

Hook’s shoulders slump a little more and he shakes his head, looking down and pursing his lips. “I am afraid that I cannot be a man of my word, Swan,” he replies finally, eyes trained on the floor.

He doesn’t look at her again and she returns to her table, confused and hurt.

* * *

Emma agrees to another date with Neal the next week, but this one really does feel like going through the motions, and as soon she walks back into the apartment, the feeling of his lips still burning into the skin of his cheek, she climbs the stairs two-by-two to dig up the bottle of rum hiding in her dresser and attempts to chase away the reminder of the disappointment in Neal’s eyes and the apathy in Hook’s.

* * *

“Are you and Dad gonna get back together?”

“No, kid, we’re not.”

“That’s what I figured, but I wanted to check.”

* * *

Life returns to normal (or as normal as it can be in a town full of storybook characters). Emma works at the sheriff's station with David helping on days he’s not at the animal shelter. Henry gets shuffled around between the various members of his family and eventually Emma starts dropping him off at his dad’s on Friday nights instead of staying for dinner and a movie.

Neal stops asking her out.

Emma is glad.

Confused by Ruby’s observations, Emma begins sitting facing the door of Granny’s, and every once in a while she looks up to see a person in a huge black leather coat make their way hastily past the window. Its strange and frustrating and it  _hurts_.

Until the day she’s pissed enough to take action.

“Hook!” Her own leather jacket is still clutched in her fist as she runs out the door after him. “Hook! Stop!”

He freezes, shoulders by his ears, and slowly turns on his heel to face her.

“How may I be of assistance, Sheriff?”

He’s doing that smartass thing again, the one where he deflects through overconfidence. It seems to usually work for him, but not today.

“You can be of assistance by telling me why the hell you’re ignoring me.”

The smirk that twists his lips is a mockery of the flirtatious ones she used to be on the receiving end of. “My, don’t we think highly of ourselves.”

“Cut the bullshit and tell me why you run every time I see you.”

“I promised to stay away.” The words come in a rush and then his lips press together as though to keep more secrets from falling out.

“Who did you promise? And why?” She takes a step forward and fancifully wishes for a dagger to press to his throat -- her usual tactic of getting information out of him.

“Bae.”

She swears under her breath and turns away from him, trying to regain her cool before exploding all over him (and he apparently doesn’t deserve her rage). “What the fuck was he thinking going over me with something like-” she seethes, words gritting between her teeth.

“I was the one who volunteered to stay away. Out of respect for Bae and the boy.” Emma meets his eyes and they are filled with a refreshing honesty that makes her take a deep breath. “I’ve ruined his family before.”

“You- you didn’t ruin his family,” she replies haltingly, reaching out her hand to rest on his shoulder and tightening her fingers when he flinches under her touch.

“Aye, I did. When I stole his mother from the crocodile.”

“People aren’t possessions. You can’t steal them.”

“I know, love.” He ducks his head and swallows, slowly. “But in his eyes I stole her. And I was aiming to steal you. To ruin his family again.”

“No.” The exasperation in her tone draws his gaze again. “He ruined this family eleven years ago when he walked out on me. There’s no way that was your fault.”

“ _Emma_.”

Her name, a pair of syllables, has never sounded so lovely as when it passes through his lips, and the warm weight of his hand falling over hers on his shoulder transmits all the comfort it is intended to transmit. She wants to link their hands together and walk down this street and talk until her voice gives out.

Fuck Neal and his prejudice against Hook.

“Go out with me, Killian,” she whispers on the sidewalk in the middle of Storybrooke, and his mouth goes slack for a moment and he finally nods when she squeezes her fingers under his.

“As you wish.”

* * *

She wears a pink dress this time, light and silky, and Mary Margaret listens to her pleas not to take any pictures. David’s more tense than he was with Neal, his mouth in a tight line though he pats Killian on the back as they leave and warns her date not to have her out too late as they have an early morning the next day.

“Early morning?”

“Didn’t you know, Swan? Your father and I sparr together on Sunday mornings. It keeps us limber.”

Emma smiles and shakes her head and asks him about swordfighting, about piracy and Neverland and even about Milah. Before she knows it, they are walking off their dinner (pasta at a restaurant Emma didn’t even know existed) by the docks, the air cool against her exposed arms.

Killian slips his heavy black jacket around her shoulders and escorts her home with a hand on the small of her back. When he kisses her outside the door to her parents’ loft, she feels like a 30-year-old woman, with all the wisdom that entails.

She asks for a second date.

He kisses her again. 


End file.
